


Common Interests

by LelianasSong



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelianasSong/pseuds/LelianasSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remembering why she disliked Overwatch's methods, Mercy finds that perhaps she is not the only one troubled by the casualties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Interests

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly getting back into writing and this is my first Pharmercy fic! This has been sat in my google docs for like a week so... here it is! I hope you like it!

Angela stared at the golden liquid in her glass, swirling it around and ignoring the rest of the room around her. This was the third glass of whiskey, a particularly old bottle had been loitering around in the cupboard and the day had been hard enough that she really did not care. There had been another outbreak of violence, another reminder as to why Overwatch may still be needed and yet everything felt sick in her stomach. 

Too many people had died today; good people, innocents and she had not been able to save them. There was little she could do when she had arrived on the scene, a Talon bomb having decimated much of the street. It was sick, vile and the violence that ensued between former Overwatch members and the agents of Talon had made rescuing any survivors difficult. How many people had she not been able to save because she was avoiding Tracer’s rain of fire against Talon? How many lives had been lost because Widowmaker had picked them off in the crowd? The last one hurt more than she cared to think about, seeing sweet Amélie’s face, blue, focused and murderous, had been unnerving to say the very least of it.

“Mein Gott,” Angela sighed, taking a generous sip and grimacing as the drink scorched down her throat.

“Dr Ziegler?”

Through her tipsy stupor, she gasped slightly when she looked up at the door of her lab. It had been so easy for her mind to make the mistake, to see a woman standing there who simply could not have been. Ana Amari, her old friend, could not be stood there, despite all the people she had brought back from the brink, she had not been one of them. No, her daughter Fareeha stood there instead, the eye of Horus standing proud on the opposite eye to Ana’s, her face similar, but different and twisted into concern.

“Ah Fareeha, how are you finding the illustrious Overwatch?” Angela asked, failing miserably at hiding the bitterness laced in her voice. “Your mother would have been proud to see you here.”

The last sentiment was at least said without the bite of her previous words. Angela truly did think that Ana would be proud, no matter how many times Fareeha would deny it. She had proven herself to be both talented and selfless, how could any mother not be proud of her? 

“Today was a mess. It should never have been allowed to happen,” Fareeha replied, scowling slightly and seemingly ignoring the comment about her mother.

“Why is that?”

“Too many people died. We should be protectors and all we did was put people in harm’s way. Nothing is perfect, we’re trying to do good, but we should have done more.”

“On that we most certainly agree,” Angela said, taking another sip of her drink.

Arching an eyebrow, Fareeha moved forward and plucked the glass out of her hand. Angela scowled, trying to reach for the glass and take it back, only to watch as the woman downed the rest of the liquid, coughing slightly as it must have burnt her throat. She was about to protest, when Fareeha poured another, taking just a small sip before placing it back into the doctor’s outstretched hand. 

“How are you drinking this?” Fareeha laughed, wrinkling her nose and grimacing at the after taste.

“With grim determination.”

Fareeha laughed again and Angela found that she adored the sound. Smiling lightly, she gestured to the seat opposite her and reached for an empty glass, filling it up and passing it to the newest member of the Overwatch family. It seemed as if Pharah at least knew when to consider that more could be done. Lena had been cocky, Winston had been grateful for the team to get back together and Torbjörn and Reinhardt had been too merry for Mercy’s tastes. Fareeha seemed to be troubled, however, the cockiness she had displayed in other exercises replaced by a reflective individual who downed the whiskey with almost as much need as Angela had.

“I learnt the hard way that the lives of the people we protect must be more important than a mission,” Fareeha said, mirroring the way Angela had swirled her glass earlier. “I do not think it is a lesson I will ever be able to forget. We need to do better, Dr Ziegler.”

“Please, call me Angela.”

“Okay… Angela.”

The doctor smiled, placing a hand over Fareeha’s without thinking twice about it. The woman looked as if she was about to pull her hand back if the twitch in the limb and her face were anything to go by. Still, she remained where she was, her large brown eyes surveying Angela curiously.

“ _ We _ can do better,” Angela said, hoping if she sounded more confident then perhaps it would be so. “Perhaps if you keep the skies clear for me, I can aid those in peril faster?”

“You mean work as a team?”

“Is that not what we are doing already?”

“Yes, but I meant…”

“I know… and yes. The others have their hearts in the right place but if we can help reduce the casualties even by a fraction…”

Fareeha nodded, turning her hand over and squeezing Angela’s in what felt like a handshake and yet feeling her strong hand squeeze her own sent a flush of blood to her cheeks. Coughing slightly, Angela hid her face behind her glass, taking another swig and spluttering. The taste was dreadful now, a clear sign that surely enough was enough. She should have opened one of the bottles of wine. It would have tasted a lot nicer and made her head swim less at the sight of Fareeha’s smile.

“So, do you plan on staying here all night, Doctor?” Fareeha asked, arching an eyebrow again, making Angela really regret the last glass of whiskey as her stomach flipped.

“Why? Do you plan on joining me? I would not mind the company.”

“Of course, but perhaps we should lay off the whiskey? This tastes like rats.”

Laughing, Angela nodded, putting the cap back on the bottle and pushing it further away from them as a sign that she was giving it up. For a moment, she looked at Fareeha, studying the line of her jaw and the curve of her lip as she smiled. She was grateful that someone had expressed a similar discomfort, she did so hate to feel like she was banging her head against a brick wall. Maybe it was gratitude that drove her body to feel warm and to bring a smile to her lips. She was Ana’s daughter after all and they had been friends, surely anything other that gratitude and friendship with her daughter would be out of the question. It was the whiskey’s fault, certainly.

Yet, as Fareeha smiled again, Angela felt her stomach flip once more, betraying the logic she was trying to instill in herself. Only time would tell, she supposed. One thing was for certain though, Fareeha would make an interesting addition to the team, no matter how everything played out.


End file.
